


And the Sun Rises

by JessieFanfic



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-10 08:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 17,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18656713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessieFanfic/pseuds/JessieFanfic
Summary: Post 8x03: Reunions after the battle against the dead amongst the wreckage of Winterfell. Arya and Gendry further their relationship, Jon and Daenerys sort out the revelation that they are family, and Tyrion and Sansa and Brienne and Jaime find love unexpectedly in the midst of a war.





	1. Gendry

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS FOR GAME OF THRONES 8x03!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Game of Thrones or any of the associated characters.

As the sun peaked over the horizon, sending bright rays shining across the ruined castle, Gendry stirred. He turned his head toward the sun, almost in awe as he realized that they had won. 

The last thing he remembered was being surrounded by no less than ten wights. He had gripped his hammer tightly, determined to use the last of his strength and take out as many as he could before falling. But just as he was about to swing, the wights had crumbled to the ground around him. Gendry had turned and seen the rest of the wights falling until the only thing moving on the battlefield had been the survivors. Exhausted, Gendry had fallen against the rampart, unconscious.

Now, however, he pushed himself up to his feet, despite the pain shooting through his leg where one of the wights had sliced him. He grimaced, but fought his way up until he was standing. The pain didn’t matter. Exhaustion didn’t matter. Nothing would matter until he had found Arya.

Gendry looked down into the main courtyard, scanning the area. He saw the Hound and the Red Woman emerge from a room, and then turned his attention towards a commotion at the other side of Winterfell. Lead by the Lady Sansa, the people sheltered in the crypts pushed their way out through hundreds of bodies. As Gendry looked, he saw them carrying wounded. He realized with a surge of anger that the dead must have made it to the crypts. He heard Jon call to Sansa, from his position by the corps of the dragon. But nowhere did he see Arya.

He walked along the ramparts, wading through a sea of corpses, but none of them with her face. So focused was he on his task that he must have jumped a foot when a hand landed on his shoulder. “Easy son.” Ser Davos moved into his line of sight. “It’s only me”. Gendry nodded and stepped forward, meeting the man in a quick embrace. Davos turned to survey the carnage in the field. “It would appear that we won”. 

Gendry turned his head towards Davos to respond, but as he did something caught his eye farther along the battlements. Davos was speaking again but Gendry couldn’t hear the words, all sounds turned to silence as a white roar filled his brain. 

Pushing past Davos, Gendry walked slowly toward it, willing his eyes to be wrong. But they weren’t. Amidst the wreckage of Winterfell, Gendry sunk to his knees. In front of him rested Arya’s weapon, shattered.


	2. Gendry

The sun was bright and the birds were singing, but Gendry felt as if his entire world had turned gray. He touched the bloodied staff as he felt a wave despair overtake him. If she was gone, he wasn’t sure if the world was worth living in. 

Images of her flashed through his mind. The first time he met her, when they fought together, escaping Harrenhal, and, most recently, he remembered her from last night. When the horns had blown he had tried, desperately, one last time to convince her not to fight. She had looked at him and told him that she must. But now she was gone.

In a moment of pure fury, Gendry hurled a piece of the weapon against the wall and screamed. He sunk his head down into his hands, his entire body shaking. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there before he felt Davos put a hand on his shoulder, leaning over to see what he had found. When he saw the broken weapon, Davos leaned down to examine it closer. He turned to Gendry, sadness and pity in his eyes. “I saw her fighting,” he said. Gendry couldn’t bring himself to speak. “She cleared an entire section of the ramparts, alone, with that weapon. It was something to see”.

Gendry looked up at him and forced the words past his lips, words that wanted to stay stuck in his throat. “Did you see her fall?”

“She might not be dead, boy,” a new voice chimed in. Whipping his head up, Gendry found himself looking at the Hound. “I was with her, for a while. After she lost the spear. She’s a fighter, that one. Gave those dead cunts a fight to remember. She doesn’t die easily”.

Gendry looked at him, praying to every God that might listen that Arya was still alive as hope rushed through him.  
“Where did she go? Do you know?”  
“The Red bitch talked to her. Seemed to suggest something to her. She went... somewhere, I’m not sure, but I imagine she would be defending her family.”

“Bran,” Gendry breathed. She would have gone to defend him. Fueled by the fire of blinding hope, he got to his feet and ran towards the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t leave it at just one chapter. More are coming too, not sure how many yet.


	3. Arya

It didn’t seem real. None of it did. She had snuck through the Godswood, quite as a shadow. She had heard Theron’s charge, heard his death. But she couldn’t let it distract her. 

She had reached the edge of the clearing just in time to see the Night King begin to reach for his sword, Bran staring him down. And then she had jumped. After that it had been instinct, a fighting drive to kill the Night King. Not just for her survival, for the sake of Bran. Jon. Gendry.  
Everyone in the world. 

And with a strength she didn’t know she had, Arya had slammed the dagger into the Night King’s stomach. She had seen his eyes show confusion, then nothing as he shattered in front of her. She had landed amidst shards of ice, shutting her eyes as the white walkers fell. 

Arya had pushed herself to her feet, but felt her legs buckling and knew she couldn’t stand much longer. She turned her head to look at Bran, saw on his face what could almost be a smile. And then, injured, concussed, and exhausted, she had collapsed to the cold ground by the Weirwood tree, the dagger still clutched in her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so at least 6 chapters? Not sure. Sorry this one was short, Arya will have a longer chapter later.


	4. Gendry

Gendry barely kept his feet on his way down the stairs, his mind occupied by only one thought. Arya, his Arya, was alive. He slammed his shoulder into the door to the courtyard, nearly knocking it from the frame. He stopped in shock once he saw the extent of the carnage from the night before. 

The walls of Winterfell had seemed sturdy when he arrived, like they had lasted a thousand years and would stand for a thousand more. But now, sections were entirely missing, dissolved in the blue fire of the dragon who’s corpse was now stretched across the courtyard. Rubble filled the yard from the tower that had collapsed, and bodies were everywhere. Friend and foe alike were piled up, creating a sea that smelled of death. 

But Gendry couldn’t focus on the dead now. He had to focus on the living, on the things he had to live for. The most important being the short girl with so much spirit, who never learned how to back down from a fight. And so Gendry began to push his way towards the entrance to the Godswood.

As he walked, limping on his leg, he did his best to ignore that the ground he was walking on was made of the dead. He kept his eyes up, focusing on getting to Arya. There would be time for grief later. He saw Jon again, this time as he hugged Lady Sansa. They spoke together until they were interrupted by the red haired wildling. He wrapped Jon into a massive bear hug, yelling, “You did it, you crazy fucker! He’s dead!”

As Gendry got closer, he saw Jon’s eyes cloud with confusion. “No,” he said, “I didn’t.” But Gendry didn’t have time to wonder who had killed the Night King. He went past them, his pace picking up the closer he got to the Godswood. He heard Jon call his name but he didn’t stop, breaking into a run as the number of bodies beneath his feet decreased. 

Gendry ran through the wood, forgetting his leg injury. He broke through the trees at the edge on the clearing and stopped. It was almost as bad as the courtyard had been, with bodies strewn over the ground. Most notable were the shards of ice, littered across the ground. And there, untouched, sitting by the tree was Bran. 

Gendry made his way through the bodies until he was in front of Bran. The boy turned to him and Gendry felt as though he was being pierced through by his eyes.  
“How? How are you alive?”

Instead of answering, Bran slowly raised one hand and pointed to something in the clearing. Turning around, Gendry felt his heart jump into his throat and his body freeze in fear. There, lying completely still in the snow by the largest patch of shards, covered with blood and still clutching her dagger was Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so glad people are enjoying this! I genuinely didn’t expect anything close to this big of a reaction. Thank you! Don’t worry, I’ll stop torturing poor Gendry next chapter.


	5. Arya

Arya felt the cold from the ground seeping into her bones. She wasn’t sure how long she had been unconscious, but as she lay still the events from the night before flooded back into her mind. Arya knew she had to get out of the cold if she was going to live. 

Live. Only a few hours ago she didn’t think anyone would live. She had gone to Gendry because she wanted him to know how she felt before they died. She had forgiven him long ago for leaving her, and she had wanted the comfort of a friend in her final hours. Of a lover. 

But now she was alive, and she needed to know that he was too. She needed to find her pack, to reassure herself that they would be alright. With a surge of determination she opened her eyes and rolled over toward where Bran was sitting. 

Even though the dead were gone, she kept her movements silent, trained as she was to never make unnecessary noise. Her eyes met Bran’s, but her ears registered a choked sob. Snapping her eyes to the side, she saw Gendry crouched in the snow. His head was down and his shoulders were hunched forward as if he was carrying the wall itself on his back. But he was alive.

Arya wanted to touch him, to make sure he was really there. She began to struggle up towards a sitting position, as she heard Bran softly say, “Gendry”.

At the sound of her brother’s voice, Gendry looked up, tears streaming his face. His eyes locked with hers, blue to gray and then he was on his feet and sprinting toward her. With a surge of strength, Arya managed to sit up as he slid to a stop in the snow beside her. She felt herself falling backwards but he caught her, holding her to his chest as her arms wrapped around him.

Arya knew that there were more people she needed to find, more things she had to do. But for now she let herself forget it all, forget the horror of the Night King’s eyes as she met Gendry’s eyes again. These blue eyes she would not close, and she thanked the God of Death himself for not taking him from her. 

As the sun rose high enough for the first rays to penetrate the Godswood, Arya tilted Gendry’s head down and met his lips with her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reunion finally happened! Yay! Sorry for making everyone wait so long. Next chapter will be Gendry’s POV and then maybe Jon’s. I think this story could use some protective older brother, don’t you?


	6. Gendry

Gendry felt his legs collapse beneath him as he saw her. She looked so small, so vulnerable. An entire side of her face was caked with dried blood and her hand gripped the dagger with a ferocity that only she was capable of. 

He bent his head down and felt the tears begin to fall. His friend. His love. His Arya. It was the cruelest possible blow, to think that she was alive only to have his hopes crushed once again. 

Some part of Gendry’s mind registered that it must have been her who had ended the Night King, but he couldn’t bring himself to be happy that the dead were gone, and by her hand, because damnit it wasn’t worth it if she had to die for it.

As tears rolled down his cheeks, Gendry dimly wished it could have been him. He wished he could have convinced her to go to the crypts, stayed with her in the battle, wished for anything that could have put him in her place now. 

As the realization that Arya was truly gone finally hit home, Gendry let out a sob. He felt fury overtake him, fury at the dead and the Night King and even at Bran for being the reason she was here. He knew the anger was misplaced but if he let go of the rage, it would give way to despair. It might anyway. 

“Gendry,” he heard Bran say softly, piercing through the haze of anger and loss.

Looking up, Gendry saw movement across the clearing. And then her eyes found his. For a few seconds all he could feel was pure disbelief, denying what his eyes were telling him. But as she blinked and began to struggle to sit up, the disbelief turned to a wave of emotions so strong that he was unable to differentiate between them.

But then he was up on his feet and running toward her, needing to get to her.  
As he reached her, he saw her beginning to fall. Before she could reach the ground he caught her and pulled her into his chest. Her arms wrapped around him in return and they held each other close. 

He was getting soaked as the snow on the ground melted beneath him, but Gendry couldn’t care less. How could he when Arya was in his arms? He gently kissed the top of her head and her eyes came up to meet his in response. He smiled softly at her and she leaned up to kiss him. They kissed softly at first, as if they were each afraid the other would disappear. But soon the kiss became more urgent and Gendry brought his hand up to hold Arya’s head.

But as his hand touched her neck she hissed in pain and he pulled back, scared of hurting her. “Are you ok?” He asked, seeing the light of pain in her eyes. When she didn’t answer he looked down at her neck. What he saw made his stomach twist in anger. Around her throat were the dark read marks of fingers, clear to see against her porcelain skin. Gendry lifted his hand and gently traced the bruises with a finger. “What happened to you?” he asked, looking back at her eyes.

She looked down at the ice shards still surrounding them and said, “The Night King. I was coming from behind and... he turned. He got my throat but I was able to get the dagger into him”. Gendry could tell from the look in her eyes that it must have been an incredibly close call. Gendry closed his eyes to fight back a wave of rage, knowing that anger was worthless now. Ours is the fury. “Just for that, I wish I had the chance to kill the fucker myself,” he growled. 

Arya’s soft hand brushed his cheek. “He’s gone now,” she whispered. Gendry nodded and leaned down to kiss her again, careful to avoid hurting her neck. But their moment together was quickly cut short by a shout through the trees.  
“ARYA!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses on who’s shouting for Arya? ;) The next chapter will hopefully be out before 3, but by 4 the latest, Idaho time.


	7. Jon

Jon crouched behind the rock as Viscerion’s blue flame roared around the courtyard. He knew that if he didn’t get to Bran soon, the Night King would kill him and the war would be lost. Theon was a good fighter and the ironborn were strong, but even they could only last so long against the tide of death itself. 

He took a deep breath, knowing that what he was about to do was most likely suicide. He thought of everything he was fighting to save, every life that depended on the the death of the Night King, and knew that he had to do it.

With the strength of desperation, Jon rose to his feet and turned to face the dragon. The massive head swung down to meet him and he stared back into the unnatural blue eyes. As the dragon breathed, blue flames shot out of the sides of it’s neck. Jon screamed at it, a war cry. A challenge. 

The dragon reared up, preparing to strike. Jon saw his death coming and stared it down. But when Viscerion opened his mouth to spit fire down upon him, the only thing that came out was an animalistic scream. Without another sound, the dragon collapsed to the ground, dead.

Backing away from the corpse, Jon turned and saw the dead falling. He realized that the Night King had fallen. One of the ironborn must have killed him, but how? None of them had Valyrian steel. Would dragonglass have killed him? 

The questions in his mind were quickly forgotten as he saw the door to the crypts being forced open. Lead by Sansa, the women and children emerged. They were battered and bloodied and so was she, but she was alive.

“Sansa”. He tried to call to her but the battle had stolen his voice and all that came out was a weak croak. Clearing his throat, Jon called again, this time louder.  
“Sansa!” He saw her turn at the sound of his voice and then freeze at the sight of him. He knew he must look terrible, all bloody and battle worn. But the only emotion showing on Sansa’s face was relief. 

Jon moved toward her as quickly as he could through the bodies beneath him. So many bodies. As he closed the distance towards Sansa, she moved forward as well and they hugged fiercely. 

When they drew apart, Jon quickly looked her over to make sure she wasn’t injured. Except for a few small scrapes and cuts, she appeared to be shaken but fine.  
“What happened down there?” Jon asked, gesturing to the crypts. “The door was closed the entire time, how could the dead have gotten to you?” 

Sansa looked at him and he saw the weight of fear in her eyes. “The dead in the tombs broke out into the crypts,” she answered, fighting to keep her voice from shaking. 

Jon looked at her in horror as he realized the terrible mistake they had made. “The Night King raised our dead to fight against us,” Jon said. “I never thought about the dead in the crypts”. 

“Neither did I,” said Sansa. “How many people died down there because I was a fool, Jon? Unarmed children and mothers”. Sansa looked down but Jon tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes.  
“It wasn’t your fault, Sansa”. 

He intended to say more but was interrupted by Tormund as he was all but tackled by the wildling. Tormund wrapped him into a bear hug and yelled, “You did it, you crazy fucking crow! He’s dead!” Jon stepped back, confused.

“No,” he said, “I didn’t.” Jon once again wondered who had. As he turned to look over the keep, Jon saw Gendry moving toward the Godswood. He hadn’t known the smith long, but they had become friends while they were beyond the wall. He was glad that the man had survived. 

“Gendry!” Jon called to get the other man’s attention. But he didn’t look back or even turn his head. In fact his pace got faster as he approached the gate to the Godswood.

The Godswood.  
Seeing Gendry’s destination had reminded him of the people inside. He needed to find Bran, Arya, Daenerys. He needed to know that his family was alive. Quickly he turned to Sansa. He saw the same thoughts flitting through her eyes as her relief at finding him changed to uncertainty. “Search the castle for them,” Jon said softly. “I’ll go to the Godswood and look for Bran”.

Sansa nodded and began to stride towards the door to the keep. Jon turned away, not noticing that Tyrion had stayed by Sansa’s side as she moved. 

Hurrying into the Godswood, Jon began to call out for the people he loved.  
“ARYA! BRAN! DAENERYS!” 

When he heard no answering call, Jon felt panicked tighten its grip and he began to run, willing himself to get to the Weirwood faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m five minutes later than I promised. Forgive me.


	8. Jon

The trees flew past as Jon rushed through the woods. “Bran!” He called again, knowing that he was the most likely one to be in the Godswood.

Chest heaving, Jon broke through the edge of he trees and into the clearing. The first person he saw was Bran, sitting serenely in his chair by the Weirwood. Jon moved forward and threw his arms around his little brother. Despite Sam’s revelation in the crypt, Jon would always think of the people he had grown up with as his siblings.

Stepping back, he looked Bran in the eye. “Are you alright?”  
Bran gave him a slight nod, reassuring him. But there were other people who he loved who still weren’t accounted for. Maybe Bran could help. 

“Daenerys?” Jon asked, fearful of the answer.  
“She’s alive. Ser Jorah died protecting her”. Jon felt a wave of sorrow and thankfulness towards the man. He knew that Jorah’s relationship with Dany had always been strained, but he had been there for her when she needed it most. And for that, he was willing to forgive the man his faults.

“And Arya?” Jon asked. At first Bran didn’t answer, a Jon felt his throat close at the thought of losing his little sister. But Bran his head and nodded towards something across the clearing.

Following his gaze, Jon saw Gendry helping a bloody Arya to her feet. She was unstable on her feet and nearly fell. Gendry caught her and she leaned heavily against him as she raised her head toward Jon.

“Arya,” he whispered, feeling relief swamp him as he saw her, alive. She smiled at him and began to walk slowly toward him, still assisted by Gendry. Jon made up the difference, stepping up to take the weight of his sister off of Gendry, who seemed almost unwilling to let her go. 

Jon saw him step back to give him and Arya space as her arms wrapped around him and she buried her face in his neck. He held her as he whispered, “I thought I might have lost you”. He felt her smile against his neck.  
“Not yet,” she answered. 

After what felt like a lifetime, the siblings stepped apart, although Jon kept a grip on her arm to help Arya stand. 

“What happened here?” Jon asked, looking around at the bodies. He turned to Bran. “Theon?”  
Bran shook his head. “He died defending me from the Night King”.

Jon looked around and saw Theon’s body in the snow, pierced through with a spear. He walked toward his old friend, Gendry quickly taking his spot to support Arya.  
“And killed him?” Jon assumed that the answer would be yes. Theon had made terrible mistakes, but he had made up for it in the end. He had given up his life for Bran. 

“No,” said Bran softly. Jon’s head snapped up to look at Bran. Bran continued, “he fought bravely, but the Night King killed him with ease”.  
Jon looked around the shards and corpses around the tree. 

“So if he didn’t kill the Night King, who did?” Bran looked from Jon, to Arya, and back to Jon.

“You’re looking at her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ll see Jon’s reaction to the news next chapter. Thanks to everybody for the support, it means a lot. I wrote this fanfic more for me than for anyone else, because I wanted it. But I decided to put it on here just in case anyone else would like it too. The response has stunned me. Thank you all so much, it’s inspiring me to write.


	9. Arya

Arya saw emotions flying across Jon’s face. First utter confusion as he looked around the clearing, then comprehension as his eyes locked with hers. Then the emotions came in waves too fast for her to determine. She saw flashes of horror, disbelief, concern, and love. But then his expression changed to one of admiration. 

He walked up to where Arya stood with Gendry, staring down at her in awe. “How?” He asked, softly.  
“I snuck up on him,” Arya responded. Jon smiled, but his expression quickly changed to one of anger and concern as his eyes dropped to her throat. “He did this?” Jon asked, examining her neck. 

Arya nodded, swallowing the lump of fear in her throat as she remembered the feeling of the hand that had clamped around her throat. She was saved from thinking about it as Jon gestured to the wound on her head. “And this?” He asked.  
Arya shook her head. “That was from earlier, on the battlements”, she said. 

Jon’s face morphed again, into an expression of horror. “You were on the walls?” His voice raised. “Arya, you were meant to stay in the crypt!” 

Arya looked up at him in defiance. “I couldn’t have sat in the crypts while everyone else was risking their lives!” She matched his tone.  
“You would have been safer.”  
“And I would have been useless! This is my home too and I intended to defend it, no matter what you told me to do. Besides, it seems like I was needed,” she stated coolly, looking pointedly to where the Night King had fallen.

“She was the only one who could have done it, Jon,” Bran stated softly, and Arya felt a rush of affection towards her younger brother. Jon’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. I just want you to be safe”.  
Arya bristled at the implication, but relaxed as she realized that Jon’s protectiveness stemmed from his love of her. “I’ve changed since we last met, Jon. I’m not a young girl who can’t hold her own anymore.”  
Jon looked at her and smiled. “No, you’re not”.

Arya felt her knees buckling again and saw Jon step forward in alarm, but Gendry caught her before he could.  
“You’re exhausted, Arya,” said Jon. “Let me help you find somewhere to rest, and then I need to organize a cleanup”.

Jon moved to take her from Gendry, but Arya tightened her grip around his arm. She had only just found him and wasn’t ready to let him go. She was saved from what was sure to have been an argument from Jon when Gendry spoke up.  
“Do what you need to do, m’lord. I can help her.”

Jon looked at her as if he was expecting her to refuse Gendry’s help. Arya caught his look of confusion as she nodded to Gendry instead, slinging an arm around her bull’s broad shoulders and letting guide her from the Godswood. She smiled to herself. The dead were gone, and her pack was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jon is still clueless. I think we’ll probably see a chapter for Tyrion next, and then Sansa, and Jon again after that. Then maybe Gendry or Daenerys? I’m horrible at planning.


	10. Tyrion

Tyrion stayed with Sansa as they walked through the ruins of her childhood home. He wasn’t sure what had made him follow when she went to look for her loved ones, but after the danger they had faced together he wasn’t ready to watch her leave. 

As they walked through the halls of the keep, stepping over the bodies of the dead, Tyrion and Sansa called out in search of survivors. But however long they searched, they found nothing moving in the keep. Reasoning that the survivors would be gathering in the courtyard, Tyrion grabbed Sansa’s hand. She turned to look at him.

“Come, my lady,” he said. “I don’t think we’ll find anyone here”.  
Sansa nodded, and then looked down at their joined hands. Tyrion expected her to let go, but she didn’t. Instead, she turned with him to retrace their steps outside. 

As they made their way to the splintered door of the keep, they began to hear voices from outside. Tyrion and Sansa shared a glance before pushing open the door and walking back into the courtyard. 

As they emerged from the keep, the jumbled noise became clear. A small group of the Unsullied stood nearby, along with Grey Worm. At the sound of the door opening, they turned quickly to face Tyrion and Sansa, but relaxed when they recognized him. He supposed that everyone was still on edge after the battle. Grey Worm gave a few orders in Valyrian, and the Unsullied soldiers dispersed. 

Grey Worm turned towards them, and Tyrion was stunned to see something close to desperation in the warrior’s eyes. He stepped forward. “Is the Queen safe?” Tyrion asked, hoping that Daenerys wasn’t the reason for Grey Worm’s distress.

“The Queen is alive,” responded the soldier in his heavy Summer Islander accent. Tyrion felt his shoulders droop in relief. He had had faith in Daenerys, even after he thought himself beyond things like that, and he had feared that his faith would be lost yet again. 

Grey Worm spoke again, pulling Tyrion from his thoughts.  
“Please, have you seen Missandei?” Tyrion looked at him in surprise. He had surmised that something was happening between Grey Worm and the Queen’s advisor, but he hadn’t predicted Grey Worm’s desperation to find her. Perhaps they were closer than he had thought. 

It was Sansa who answered the question.  
“She was in the crypts with us when the dead fell,” Sansa answered. “I don’t know where she is now, but you should check the great hall. That’s where the wounded are being cared for.” 

Tyrion saw Grey Worm’s face portray pure fear. Sansa must have seen it too, because she elaborated before Grey Worm could even ask the question. “She was stabbed in the leg by a wight,” Sansa said softly.

The soldier nodded his thanks to them, and Tyrion saw tears welling up in his eyes as he turned towards the great hall.  
They stood in silence for a while, surveying the yard. Sansa broke it by saying, “I spoke to her, you know.”  
“Missandei?”  
“The Queen.”

Tyrion wasn’t sure when this conversation had happened, but something in Sansa’s voice was different now than when she had first spoke to him about Daenerys. He decided to question her. “And?”  
“She’s strong willed and ambitious, but I think you might not have been wrong about her after all. We disagree on many things, but I can see that she is a good ruler.”

Tyrion looked up at her and smiled. “I’m glad you think so. I think she plans to make some major changes, too, to the ruling system once-“ Tyrion cut off as he saw someone emerge from the great hall. Sansa looked down at him, and followed his gaze to where Jaimie stood. 

“Go,” she smiled at him. “I need to find my siblings too”. Tyrion watched her walk out of side around the keep, and then began to struggle through the bodies towards his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so actually Jaime’s chapter next, and then Sansa, and then Jon. Maybe? 
> 
> Also: would you guys prefer to see Brienne with Jaime or with Tormund? Or maybe a bit of love triangle action? Or maybe nothing at all. I like both ships equally, so I’m leaving it up to you guys.


	11. Jaime

Jaimie felt tired down to his very bones. He hadn’t expected to survive the battle, and at the end the dead had come very close to filling that expectation. He shuddered as he remembered the heart stopping fear that had clutched him when the dead had forced him, Brienne, and Pod against the wall and were simply overwhelming them with numbers. But then they had fallen, one, ten, a thousand, until the entire battlefield was still. And he was alive. 

He knew now, after fighting the dead, that Cersei never would have stood a chance against them. Hell, the Targaryen Queen had two dragons and they had still barely survived. 

Jaimie was bleeding badly from several cuts, and so he had limped to the great hall with help from Brienne. She had left him there to find others in need of help. 

One of the women sheltered in the crypts had helped him clean and bind his wounds, and suggested that he rest. He wondered wryly if he could even find a bed in the castle that wasn’t in at least two pieces. But the hall was filling up with the wounded, and others needed his spot on the floor more than he did. So Jaimie pushed himself to his feet and walked back into the courtyard, gingerly  
stretching his legs. 

He walked over and leaned against the wall of the keep, allowing it to take some of his weight. As he was pondering the events that had brought him here, to the heart of the North, he heard a voice from behind him. “Jaimie.”

Turning around, Jaimie found himself facing his little brother. Tyrion was bloody, although he couldn’t tell if it was from fighting or from wading through the bodies that surrounded them. He grinned down at him. “I see you made it through the night,” Jaimie joked.

“And you, although you look like you’re about to fall over,” Tyrion shot back.  
Jaimie shook his head. “I’m afraid you might be right”.

Tyrion looked at him in concern. “It just so happens that my room was one of the few that survived the night. You can rest and we can exchange our war stories. I even have wine,” said Tyrion.  
Jaimie gave him a tired smile. “That sounds fine to me”.

They walked together to Tyrion’s room, which was thankfully only on the second floor of the tower. Tyrion pushed the door open, and the brothers entered the room, and Jaimie stopped short. The same sixth sense that kept him alive in the battle was warning him now. Jaimie turned towards a dark corner of the room. Standing in front of him, with a loaded crossbow, was Bronn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooohhh. Cliffhanger! And this storyline won’t be revisited for another 4 chapters at least. I’m sorry.


	12. Sansa

Sansa turned away from the main courtyard and walked back toward the Godswood. She was happy for Tyrion, and glad for his sake that Jaime was alive. But now she needed to find her own family. She had still heard nothing of Bran or Arya, or Theon. 

As she was making her way to the entrance to the woods, Sansa saw two people exit the gate, one leaning heavily on the other. Even from this distance, she recognized Arya. Sansa began moving faster and was about to call out to her sister when she saw something that left her stunned. 

The man who had been helping her sister across the yard had turned to her and hugged her to him, stroking a hand through her hair. She had no idea who the man was, but Arya obviously knew him as she turned her head up and met his lips with a gentle kiss. When she pulled away she was smiling. 

Sansa couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Arya smile like that. Not since she had arrived back at Winterfell all those months ago, and yet she was smiling now. Sansa’s first thought was to unleash anger on the man for handling her sister so improperly. But then she realized that Arya had never been proper. And she was smiling. 

Sansa walked up to the couple, saying “Arya,” softly, to catch their attention. She saw Arya’s eyes widen as she realized that her sister had seen her, but she relaxed as Sansa smiled at her and reached forward to hug her. 

“Are you ok?” She asked, looking over her younger sister. Arya was covered in blood and limping, but she was alive and on her feet.  
“I’m alright. You look like you saw some of the fighting too”.  
Sansa met her sister’s eyes. “The dagger came in handy”.  
Arya nodded. “I’m glad. Bran is safe, he’s in the Godswood with Jon.”

Sansa felt relief rush through her. She nodded, and then turned to the man by Arya’s side. She leveled a slight glare at him, just enough to convey a warning. “And you are?”  
“Gendry, Lady Stark.” The man met her eye. “Gendry Waters”. Sansa looked at him and liked what she saw, although she was careful to not let her menacing glare slip. He was strong and good looking, but most importantly he was ready to meet her eye. Yes, Sansa thought, maybe I don’t mind this one being with my sister. 

Arya, taking her silence for displeasure, jumped in. “Sansa, if you’re judging him because he’s a bastard I will personally-“  
Sansa cut her off before she could finish the threat. “I don’t think it matters who’s a bastard in this world anymore.” She finally let the glare fade, and nodded to the two of them as she walked past towards the Godswood.

After a few steps, however, she turned back. “Gendry,” she called after them and he turned. “Treat her well.” The man met her eye once more, and she gave him a look that told him she would rip him apart if he didn’t. To his credit, the man didn’t flinch. He simply nodded and turned back to helping Arya.

Having made her point, Sansa walked into the Godswood to find her brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the first person has found out! Gendry stood up pretty well to Sansa, but she wasn’t trying to be very intimidating. Jon will be much scarier.


	13. Jon

Jon watched as Gendry helped Arya out of the clearing. He noticed that the smith was limping too, but still determinedly staying by his sister’s side. She was leaning against him, one arm around his shoulders to help her walk. Gendry’s arm was around her waist, supporting her. The last fact made Jon a little uncomfortable, although he wasn’t sure why.

Shaking the feeling off, he reminded himself to thank Gendry later for his help.  
Jon frowned again. He hadn’t expected Arya to accept help from anyone she didn’t know. It wasn’t like her. But she was completely exhausted, Jon reasoned, so it’s not surprising that she wanted help. 

Shrugging, Jon turned back to Bran. “She’ll be alright, won’t she?”  
His brother nodded. “She’s strong, and Gendry will help her”. 

Jon felt a bit uncomfortable again, but Gendry’s name reminded him of something. “Why was he in such a rush to get here? I saw him crossing the courtyard. He was running like the Stranger himself was behind him”.  
Bran tilted him lips up slightly. “He wanted to find someone”.

Jon was more confused than he had been before, but there were things he needed to do. Many had fallen in the battle. The bodies had to be burned, and they would need a count for the survivors. 

As he made a mental list, Jon turned to Bran. “Where is the Queen?”  
“She’s approaching the main gate, with Drogon and the Unsullied.”  
Jon nodded his thanks. “I need to go back to the courtyard. Should I wheel you in as well?”  
Bran shook his head. “I’ll stay here and sit with the dead,” he said quietly, looking towards where Theon lay. Jon nodded.  
Giving one last look at his friend’s body, Jon turned and walked back toward the clearing to find his Dany.

As he was walking, he heard the sound of footsteps through the snow ahead of him. Instinctively, he grabbed his weapon, but relaxed as he saw Sansa approaching through the trees. He smiled at her. “Bran and Arya are safe,” he called. Sansa nodded to him. 

“I saw Arya on her way into the castle, with her man,” Sansa answered. “She told me where to find Bran.”  
Jon nodded, but looked at her in confusion as something she had said caught his attention. “Her man?”  
“Nothing,” Sansa smirked. Jon had the nasty feeling that there was something going on that he didn’t know about, but he was distracted from his thoughts as Sansa spoke again.

“Where is Theon?”  
Jon looked down, unsure of how to break the news to his sister. He opened his mouth to form words but none came out.  
Looking up, he saw Sansa’s eyes cloud with tears. She hugged him quickly and then walked past towards the Weirwood. Jon looked after her sadly. He knew that she and Theon had been close. 

Rubbing his eyes as a wave of exhaustion hit him, Jon walked out into the courtyard.  
As he emerged, he saw a patrol of the Unsullied helping Daenerys through the gate. Drogon roared overhead. 

She was bloodied, and it hit Jon that she couldn’t have gotten so filthy on the back of a dragon. She must have fought on the ground, for a while at least.

He needed to know she was alright. She was his aunt, yes, but also the woman he loved. He needed to make sure she was safe. 

And so Jon pushed exhaustion to the back of his mind and jogged across the courtyard to meet her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a very thick skull. Daenerys will have a chapter next, and then Tyrion. So I’ll resolve the cliffhanger in chapter 15. Sorry to leave you all in the dark until then!


	14. Daenerys

Daenerys kneeled above Jorah, weeping. She touched his face, hoping to see him move. All she felt was the coldness of death. 

Looking up, Dany registered that the battlefield was silent. Jon must have made it to the Night King. The battle was won, but she took no pleasure in it. The loss was too great to be happy.

Jorah had stood by her side since she had first married Drogo. He had betrayed her, once, but she had long forgiven him that. She had believed, foolishly, that he would always be there to advise her. Dany felt lost without him. 

Leaning over his body, Daenerys closed his eyes forever and the first rays of sun peaked over the cloudy horizon. She cried, cried tears for this man who had given his life to save hers. She heard the flap of wings behind her, and then Drogon was there, curling around her and Jorah. He let out a great sigh, and moved his head to touch Jorah. Even her children grieved for him.

Daenerys knew that she needed to get back to Winterfell. She would be missed and she wanted to find Jon. But as the last of the adrenaline from the battle ran out of her body, she felt too tired to stand. 

As she lay on the ground, Dany heard Drogon growl softly. Looking up, she saw Jon’s massive dire wolf approaching. Drogon glared at him, but didn’t stop him as he walked up to her and nuzzled her face.

Gently, Ghost nudged her with his nose, urging her to sit up. Pushing back against the cold ground, and with the wolf’s help, Dany was able to make it up to a sitting position. The dragon glass sword she had grabbed in battle still lay beside her where she had dropped it when the dead fell. 

Ghost nudged her again, pushing his head under her arm so that it rested on his back. Gripping her hand into his thick white fur, Daenerys let the wolf help her to stand. Drogon got to his feet as well, moving his head down to look her in the eye. Daenerys turned her head, looking down at her friend and advisor one last time. 

She took a deep breathe and took the first step back towards Winterfell, supported by Ghost on her right and Drogon on her left.

Taking slow, careful steps, Daenerys rounded a corner of the keep. As more land came into view, she saw the large body of Rhaegal spread on the ground. There was a massive furrow in the snow behind him from where he had landed and slid.

Drogon roared and left her side, barging to where his brother lay, and Daenerys stumbled forward with Ghost toward her children. Had she lost Rhaegal too? Drogon nudged his brother and looked at his face, and then nudged him again. He didn’t move. Daenerys reaches him, and carefully placed her hand against his head. She leaned her head against his as Drogon roared again. She had lost another.

But Dany had to move on. If she looked back, she was lost. She had to get back to the keep. And so she turned away from her child, forcing back her tears, Ghost still by her side. But as she began to move away, she heard movement behind her.

Spinning around, Daenerys was stunned to see Rhaegal open his eyes on focus on her. He began to get to his feet, and Drogon rushed back to his side. He raised his wings and tried to take to the air, but a large tear in his wing stopped him from making it more than a few feet in the air. Daenerys watched as Drogon moved to support him and they began walking. She leaned against Ghost and took the next painful step back to Winterfell.

As they approached the main gate, a horn blew and the gates opened to show a group of her Unsullied moving quickly toward her. She wrapped her fingers in Ghost’s fur and looked down at him. “Thank you,” she whispered, and the wolf raised his large head to look at her. It was almost as if he understood. 

The Unsullied reached her shortly afterward, and two of them quickly handed their spears and shields to the others and reached out to help her. The guided her back into Winterfell as Drogon and Rhaegal circled down into their normal spot near the gates. 

As she walked into the courtyard, she was met by thousands of bodies strewn on the ground. Efforts were being made to clean up, but it was clear that it would take months to restore Winterfell. 

The first person she saw was Ser Davos, the honorary hand of Jon. “Ser Davos,” she greeted.  
“Your grace. I’m glad to see you alive.”  
“And I you. Where is Jon?”  
Davos opened his mouth to answer but didn’t need to as Jon approached them at a run. He stopped in front of her, his eyes full of concern. He was bloody and dirty, but to Daenerys it didn’t matter what he looked like as long as he was alive.  
“Dany,” he whispered. He then looked around, obviously remembering where they were. “Your Grace,” he said louder, giving her a respectful nod.

All Daenerys wanted to do was hold him, and know that he was safe. But that was for later, when they were away from where the rest of the world could see. For now it was enough to know that he was alive and the living had won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll resolve the cliff hanger next chapter, I promise. It’ll be out by 5 Idaho time.


	15. Tyrion

Tyrion walked into his room with Jaime. He knew that he would have to find the Queen, and soon, but first he would make sure that Jaime was resting. However, he was torn out of such thoughts when Jaime stopped suddenly. Taken by surprise, Tyrion nearly walked into him. He opened his mouth to complain, but before he could Jaime turned to face a corner of the room and shoved Tyrion behind him. He drew his sword and Tyrion felt his heart drop into his stomach in terror. Were the dead not gone? 

Walking out from behind Jaime, Tyrion was faced with not the blue eyes of the dead, but the tip of an arrow leveled at Jaime. He noticed the weapon with a start. He would know that crossbow anywhere. 

Tyrion raised his eyes to the person holding the bow. “Bronn,” he said, stunned. Of all the people that he would have expected to find here, Bronn was one of the last. Bronn’s eyes flicked to him before returning to Jaime. The two warriors faced off in silence. Trying to de escalate the situation, and also out of curiosity, Tyrion spoke again. “Why are you here?”

Bronn spoke to him, but his eyes never left Jaime. “Your sister sent me. She wants you dead.” He looked from Jaime to Tyrion and back. “Both of you.”  
“With that bow?” Tyrion asked, gesturing at it. He knew that if Bronn attacked, he and Jaime would die. Jaime was exhausted and anyone who looked at him could tell he wasn’t a fighter. Their only hope was to keep Bronn distracted long enough for someone else to arrive.

“Aye. A keen sense of poetic justice, I believe it was put.”  
“I see”.  
“But,” Bronn continued, lowering the bow, “I don’t intend to do it. You once told me that whatever the price on your head was, you’d beat it. And, I don’t trust your bitch of a sister to follow through on anything that comes out of her mouth.”  
Jaime and Tyrion shared a glance. “So you’re here to fight with us?” Asked Jaime incredulously.  
“I suppose,” answered Bronn, “until one of you fancy lords finally gets me a fucking castle.”  
Tyrion smiled, but Jaime spoke again. “I thought you told me that dragons were where our partnership ended”.  
Bronn walked over to a table of several wines. “Aye,” he said over his shoulder as he poured a cup. He turned back to them and took a large drink. “But that was when we were fighting against the dragons.”

Jaime finally relaxed, sheathing his sword. He swayed on his feet a little and Tyrion quickly moved a chair up for him. Jaime collapsed into it gratefully, accepting a cup of wine from Bronn.  
“I suppose you two will be boasting about beating the dead fuckers until the end of time,” the sellsword sighed. Tyrion smiled. He had missed Bronn. But as much as the man might complain, Tyrion had a suspicion that he was curious. This was confirmed, as after a few seconds of silence Bronn spoke again. “How did you do it?”

Tyrion began to tell him of their plan, aided by Jaime. They explained that killing the Night King would kill all the wights, and how they had used Brandon Stark as bait. Bronn has raised and eyebrow at that, but remained silent. His brother’s input became less and less frequent until Tyrion eventually looked over and saw that he had fallen asleep. 

“If he starts snoring, I’m going to dump this wine on him.”  
Tyrion looked up at Bronn. “He just fought the dead. Surely that gives him permission to snore”.  
“Not when people are telling stories, he can’t”. Bronn sat back in his chair. “So who did kill this Night fucker of yours?”  
“I don’t know. I expect it was either the dragons or Jon Snow.”  
“You’re telling me, that you think that boy could have killed it?” Bronn asked incredulously.  
“Careful, Bronn. That boy, as you put it, is Warden of the North and one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen.” 

Tyrion had know Bronn for years, but if someone who didn’t know him heard a sentiment like that, it could lead to a misunderstanding before Tyrion could rectify things.  
“I’ve never had respect for them in authority,” came Bronn’s reply. “Why should I start now?”

Tyrion sighed. He got up to get more wine, hoping Bronn didn’t get himself killed before he’d even been in the North for a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised! Sorry to keep you all waiting this long. Bronn is one of my favorite characters and I just had to get him involved in this story.


	16. Gendry

Gendry walked close to Arya, even after they had made their way into the tower. Under an hour ago he had thought that she was dead, and now he that he had found her he wasn’t about to leave.

He had been a bit concerned that Lady Sansa would disapprove of their relationship. She always seemed to be cold and hold herself a bit aloof, and so he assumed that she would be concerned with propriety. He knew Arya had been worried about it too. Instead, she had seemed to tacitly approve. Gendry had long feared, ever since he had learned who she was, that a bastard smith would never be good enough for the Lady Arya Stark. Back then it had simply been a wish to protect her. Now it was more.

He smirked. No doubt, if he called her Lady Arya, he would get hit in the chest shortly afterward. But that didn’t change that she was a Stark. He loved Arya and didn’t think he wanted to live in a world without her, and her sister approving of their relationship made him think that maybe they would have a chance together.

He was pulled out of his musings by a small hiss of pain from by his side. Turning to look at Arya, he saw her bracing herself against the wall and gingerly touching one of her many injuries.  
“Arya,” he said softly, and immediately her eyes opened. She looked at him, a challenge in her eyes, like she was daring him to make a comment. 

So he didn’t. Instead, he walked over to her and grabbed her waste, careful to avoid touching her wounds. She looked at him in confusion, but that confusion turned to anger as he lifted her up and began to carry her down the hall.  
“Put me down! I’m not dying, I can damn well walk by myself.”  
His own leg injury sent as a shaft of pain up his leg as she wriggled in his arms, but he wasn’t about to put her down. Instead of answering, he just kept walking toward her room. Arya cursed him, promising that if anyone saw him carrying her, she would bash him on the head with his own hammer.  
“Well, m’lady, the more noise you make, the more likely people are to see you.”

At that, Arya stopped complaining, but she glared daggers at him. 

When he reached her room, Gendry pushed open the door to see a miraculously undamaged space. Walking over to the bed, he set Arya down. She glared at him.  
“I’m going to get you back for that,” she muttered darkly.  
“For what?” He shot back. “Caring about you? Making sure you didn’t hurt yourself because you’re stubborn?” 

Arya was silent for a minute, but then she turned to him. “This is just like when we were children,” she said with a smile. Gendry chuckled.  
“I’ll leave you to get cleaned up, then,” Gendry said. Arya had looked away from him but as he spoke her eyes flashed back and she leveled a glare at him.  
“Don’t you dare leave”.  
“Arya... it’s not proper. It’s not good for your reputation.”  
Arya rolled her eyes. “Gendry, I just killed the Night King. Who, in this keep, Do you think is about to lecture me on propriety, other than you?”

Gendry shifted from foot to foot. What she said was true, mostly. “I don’t know, maybe your brother?”  
“Then its a good thing he doesn’t know. I only just got you back, Gendry. I don’t want you to leave.”

Gendry gave in. He could never refuse her anything, and he didn’t want to leave any more than she wanted him to go.  
“Alright,” he said softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for ending it there, but this is my first time writing a fanfic and I’m not quite ready to write smut. If you guys really want though, I could try? Pretty sure it would be horrendous.


	17. Jon

There were so many things that he wanted to say to Daenerys. He knew that she was unhappy because he had a better claim to the throne, and he wanted to tell her that he didn’t even want to be the King. He wanted to say that she was going to be a much better ruler than he could ever be. But now wasn’t the time, not when they were in a courtyard filled with the bodies of those who had sacrificed everything to protect the world. 

Jon looked at Dany, hoping that he could convey everything he was feeling through his eyes. She smiled softly at him. Later, her eyes seemed to say.  
“We should separate the bodies,” Jon said softly, turning to look over the courtyard. Daenerys nodded. “I’ll ask the Unsullied and the...” she looked down. “Just the Unsullied, I suppose. The ones who were not injured in the battle can take care of it once they have rested.” 

Jon knew she had been about to mention the Dothraki. It didn’t seem real to either of them, that so many men had charged into battle with flaming swords and so few had returned. He knew it must be weighing on Dany, to have led her people to their deaths. He touched her arm softly to comfort her. “I’m sure the Northerners would be happy to help”. 

At that, Daenerys looked at him. He continued. “They saw you and your armies fighting for them, for their home. The North does have a long memory, but they have seen that you are nothing like your father. I believe that they will stand behind you.

“Don’t make me cry out here, Jon. I hate crying”.  
Jon smiled. “Let’s organize the cleanup and funeral now. We can talk later.”  
Dany nodded her agreement, but Jon barely noticed as he was knocked flat on his back by a whirlwind of white fur. “Ghost!” He grinned. He had feared the great wolf had been lost forever in the Dothraki charge.

Pushing himself up to his knees, Jon pressed his forehead against Ghost’s and closed his eyes. He felt a tremendous amount of relief to know that his wolf was alive and miraculously apparently unharmed. 

Standing back up, he turned to Daenerys, who had been watching the event with a smile. “I’ll speak to the Unsullied,” she said, “And you the northmen?” Jon nodded.  
“I’ll find you again later, your Grace,” said Jon.  
Dany smiled and whispered softly enough that only he heard. “I’ll look forward to it”.

 

Jon walked across the courtyard toward the keep. The Northmen had been very willing to help the Unsullied. He was glad to see that his predication was correct and they appeared willing to give Daenerys a chance. 

He wanted to sleep, but first he wanted to check on Arya. His little sister had done something incredible when she killed the Night King, but she was still so young. He wanted to make sure that there was nothing she needed, and make sure that she was resting. 

He smiled to himself. Knowing Arya, she would want to be out of bed and moving much sooner than she should. 

Entering the keep, Jon walked through to where Arya’s room was. It looked undamaged and the door was shut, so Jon assumed that she was inside. He knocked quietly. When he got no answer, he knocked a little louder. He waited for a few seconds, but still didn’t here anything. He frowned. She was probably asleep, and he didn’t want to wake her, but the battle had left him tense and he wanted to be sure that she was alright. 

Jon twisted the handle and pushed open the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh.....  
> the next chapter will be out by 5. Probably Jon again.


	18. Jon

Jon made sure to open the door quietly, not wanting to wake Arya if she was sleeping. As he entered the room, Jon saw Arya on the bed, fast asleep. He smiled, happy to see her actually resting. 

A draft of cold air blew into the room from the open door, making the candles flicker. Jon saw Arya shift in her sleep, disturbed by the breeze. As she moved, the furs covering her shifted down. Jon quickly turned around as he realized that she was wearing only a light shift under the furs. 

No need to disturb her, Jon thought, but as he was about to leave he heard footsteps from behind the door to the washroom. Pausing in confusion, Jon turned around to face the sound. He looked at the closed door. Maybe it was one of her maids. But then he remembered that Arya had refused maids when she returned to Winterfell. He heard water from the basin splashing and his frown deepened. The maids would have no reason to use the basin.

Quickly, Jon moved behind the open door to the hall, effectively hiding himself from view from most of the room. He didn’t normally sneak around, but he would need the benefit of surprise if someone was here to harm his sister.

On instinct, his hand brushed against the dagger at his hip. The person behind the door had better have a damn good reason for being here, he thought. 

Jon tensed as he saw the door start to open, then stopped in surprise. Of all the people to emerged from that door, he hadn’t expected to see his friend Gendry. 

Shocked into silence, Jon watched as Gendry crossed the room and climbed onto the bed next to Arya. She shifted again, this time waking up, and rolled over to face him. Gendry smiled at her and brought a hand up to touch her cheek. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

Jon saw red. “GENDRY!” He roared, stepping out from behind the door. The smith and Arya started, two heads swinging to stare at him with matching wide eyes. 

Before he realized what he was doing, Jon had drawn his dagger and leaned toward the bed, intent on driving the weapon into the man who had been touching his sister. 

Later, Jon wasn’t sure whether he would have actually stabbed the smith. Before he could get to him, Arya lunged up and put herself between him and Gendry.   
“Jon,” she had urgently, trying to pacify him. But Jon was in no mood to be pacified. Through his haze of fury, he noticed Arya’s state of undress again and it only served to enrage him further.

“You,” Jon snarled at Gendry. “I’ll kill you!” Blinded by rage, he lunged toward the smith again, clutching the dagger tightly. Arya grabbed his hand, stopping him. “Jon, please.” She said.

“No Arya. No! I won’t have it. You’re...” he gestured at her shift, too worked up to form a full sentence. “And he,” Jon pointed at Gendry, “with you!” He looked around them. “In your room!”  
Jon stopped talking, feeling that he had made his feelings clear, and glared at Gendry instead. “GET OUT!” He roared, pointing at the door he had left open. 

But now Arya was angry. Getting up off of the bed, she drew herself to her full height and took a step toward Jon.   
“How dare you,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes. Her voice was soft, but none the less menacing for it. Jon thought about backing away, but realized that he would appear less intimidating if he did.  
“He’s in your room!” Jon said, still in shock.  
“Yes,” Arya glared at him. “He is.”   
“But you’re...” he gestured at her helplessly. “And you’re my sister!”  
“Then your sister just killed the Night King. So I can do what I want. I can kiss who I want. And I can fuck who I want. And you won’t be interfering.” She glowered at him. “Now get out.”

Jon looked at her for a moment, speechless. And then, not knowing what else to do, he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this lived up to everyone’s expectations! It was probably the most fun I’ve had writing a chapter so far. At the point where Jon first yells at Gendry, I got so stressed I just rolled into a ball whispering “oh shit” repeatedly before I remembered im writing the story.


	19. Sansa

Sansa walked back into the courtyard, a soldier pushing Bran behind her. Seeing Theon’s body had left her shaken. She knew that he had done terrible things at one point in his life, but that point was long behind him. They had shared a rare connection formed by both suffering at Ramsey’s hand. She would miss him. She felt a tear making its way down her cheek and lifted a finger to remove it.

Looking around the courtyard, Sansa was pleased to see her sworn sword assisting with the cleanup. She hadn’t seen Brienne until now and had feared she had fallen in the battle. She walked forward. Brienne saw her and turned.   
“My lady,” she said respectfully. “I’m happy to see that you survived the battle.”  
“And I you, Lady Brienne. Or, I suppose Ser Brienne now,” she smiled. Tyrion had mentioned how Jaime had knighted her. Brienne smiled gently.

“I’m exhausted,” Sansa commented to her sworn sword.  
“Battle is tiring, My Lady. Should I escort you to your chambers?”  
Sansa felt that she just needed some time to be alone and cope with the events of the night before. She nodded to Brienne and they walked to the keep. 

Tormund, seeing Brienne, walked to join them. As they moved into the keep itself, he kept up a running one sided conversation with Brienne, during most of which he was telling her about his incredible feats during the battle.   
“You should have seen it. They were surrounding me, and I swung my axe. And four of them fell. Four!”  
“I’m sure it was something to see,” Brienne commented dryly. Sansa smiled as the sarcasm went straight over Tormund’s head. He continued recounting the battle enthusiastically. 

As they neared her room, Sansa began to quicken her pace, eager to be away from Tormund’s stories. The talk of wights and nearly dying was making her uncomfortable. But she was stopped in her tracks by a sudden shout from Arya’s room. “GENDRY!”

Brienne quickly moved to put herself in front of Sansa, her hand closing around the pommel of her sword.

A door on the other side of the hall opened and Sandor emerged, alerted by the noise. He looked at her. “The fuck’s going on out here?” He asked, sounding none too pleased to be disturbed. Sansa could only shake her head and shrug, her eyes on the partly open door to her sister’s room. 

They heard more, as Jon furiously cursed and yelled. With a sudden comprehension, Sansa realized what must have just happened. Looking behind her, she could see that Sandor and Tormund had figured it out too. The men shared a look and then burst out laughing, even as Jon’s voice rose again. After a few minutes, the door opened further and Jon stormed out, red faced, and slammed the door behind him. The laughter from Sandor and Tormund redoubled and Sansa felt her lips twitching into a smile. 

Noticing them, Jon walked up to Sansa. He ignored the two guffawing men and spoke to her, almost spluttering in his distress. “Sansa!” He said, hurriedly. “Gendry is in Arya’s room!”

Sansa raised a cool eyebrow, completely unruffled. “You don’t say.”  
“But... but he’s with her!”  
“And you have a problem with this?”  
“Of course I have a... wait.” Jon looked at her searchingly. “You knew!” His look became accusatory. “You did, didn’t you!”  
“I was aware,” Sansa replied, fighting back her smirk.  
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Jon asked, and then turned to Tormund and Sandor before she could respond. “Could the pair of you stop laughing?”  
This, of course, only made them laugh harder. Tormund wiped a tear from the corner from his eye, and spoke to Sandor. “The crow doesn’t take too well to finding his sister fucking, does he?”  
Sandor smirked and responded. “I knew they’d be fucking eventually. Those two shits were eyeing each other even when the were still with the fucking Brotherband.  
Sansa jumped in before Jon could. “Sandor, that’s disgusting. They may have loved each other as children but they were not, as you put it, fucking.”

Jon had been following this conversation, getting angrier and angrier. “You knew too?” He pointed a finger at Sandor. “If so many people were aware, then why am I only hearing about this now?”  
“How you’re acting right now is exactly why, Jon.” Sansa looked at him pointedly. “I think how I’m acting is justified!”  
“Jon, I know you haven’t seen her since she was a child, but she’s not a child anymore. She can make her own choices.”

She could see Jon starting to calm down as he accepted that what she said was true. He sighed, conflicted. Sansa pressed her advantage. “You know Gendry. Would he ever treat her badly?” Jon shook his head, looking pensive.  
“You’re right, Sansa. I’m still going to talk to him though.” He turned to Sandor. “They know each other?” Sandor looked surprised that Jon didn’t know. “Aye. They’ve known each other for years.” Jon smiled. “I’m sure they have some stories to tell, then”. He frowned. “I wonder why Gendry never mentioned it.”   
Sansa stepped forward. “He probably had a reason, Jon. Don’t be to harsh on him about it.”

Jon smiled. “I won’t, if only out of fear of what Arya might do to me.” He sighed. “After all, as she said to me, she killed the Night King. I think she has the right to do what she wants.”

Sansa felt her blood run cold. She stared at Jon and saw his eyes go wide as he realized what he had said. Sandor shoved past her to stare down at Jon.   
“She did what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The major things I still want to cover in this story:  
> -a funeral for the dead  
> -Dany and Jon figuring out the deal with them being related  
> -Jon having a conversation with Gendry.
> 
> I’m hoping to wrap this up before episode 4.


	20. Jaime

Jaime awoke slowly from a deep sleep, stretching out his limbs and blinking at his strange surroundings. Looking around, he found himself in Tyrion’s room. “Must have dropped off,” he muttered. He saw no sign of Bronn or his brother, and assumed that they must have left. 

Jaime’s muscles ached as he pushed himself to his feet, but he felt better rested than he had before. Rubbing his eyes, he opened the door to the hall, but as he walked out he bumped into someone. Turning, Jaime saw that the someone was Brienne.   
“Ser Brienne,” Jaime greeted. “My apologies.”  
“Ser Jaime,” she answered. “How are you feeling?” 

Jaime smirked wryly. “Like I just fought a battle against dead men.” This earned him a small smile from Brienne. “And you?”  
“Well enough, considering what we faced. But many lives have been lost. I’ve been assisting wherever I can.”

Jaime looked at her, seeing her exhaustion in the way she carried herself. “It looks to me as if you could use a break. Shall we go to the hall? I believe they’re currently serving food, and I know I could use some.”  
Brienne started to shake her head. “There is so much left to be done.”  
“And plenty of time to do it,” Jaime countered. “Please, Brienne. You’ve just fought a battle and none of us slept last night. You need to rest as much as anyone.”  
She considered this, and eventually nodded. “For a while.”

As they walked together in companionable silence, Jaime thought about his friendship with the knight. Brienne was truthful, trustworthy, and loyal to a fault. He had been proud to fight alongside her in the battle. Thinking back on all the time he had spent in her company, Jaime realized that Brienne brought out the best in him. She made him into someone he felt he could be proud of. A man with perhaps even a little honor. 

Comparatively, Cersei had always forged her way through life on a tide of violence and lies, and blindly he had followed her. With a surge of anger directed at himself, Jaime remembered all those times when he had said nothing, done nothing to stop Cersei as she destroyed the lives and livelihoods of others. All because he had loved her. What Tyrion told him before the battle was true. He had always know what she was, and he hadn’t cared. But now he did. He wanted to be better.

He turned to Brienne, stopping. “I never thanked you,” he said softly  
“For what?”  
“For vouching for me when I arrived at Winterfell. Without you, I don’t think I would have lasted very long.”  
It was true. Had Brienne not spoken up, Jaime doubted whether he would have seen the light of another day.  
“Everything I said was true. You are a good man, Jaime, no matter how many times people have told you otherwise. You have honor.”

Jaime looked down. He wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t. Not if he was being honest with himself. “I pushed a child out of a window, Brienne. A child.” His voice was broken. “Because he had the bad luck to see me fucking my sister.” His voice rose, and he didn’t notice how Brienne flinched at the sentence. 

“You were a different man then,” she said gently. “Do the Starks know?”  
Jaime shook his head. “I think that’s part of why I feel so despicable,” he answered. “It’s this great secret that weighs on my shoulders every day.”  
Brienne looked thoughtful. “If you were to tell the Starks, what do you think they would do?”  
Jaime snorted. “If I’m lucky, they’d kill me quickly. And I couldn’t blame them.”  
Brienne shook her head. “I’m not so sure. I know the Starks. They’ve all changed so much since they were younger. Perhaps they could see that you’ve changed too. I certainly can.”

Jaime looked up and met Brienne’s eyes, feeling a wave of gratitude toward her. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s the only way I can redeem myself at this point. I think I might talk to Bran first, though. Make sure that he knows I understand that they’ll most likely kill me and that he shouldn’t feel like I want him to defend me.”  
Brienne looked at him sharply. “They won’t kill you,” she said, sounding as if she were trying to convince herself as much as him. Jaime was unconvinced.

They continued walking, reaching the hall and seeing that there was indeed food available. Jaime’s stomach growled.   
“Let’s eat,” he said. “If I’m going to die, I don’t want to do it on an empty stomach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is some Jaime and Brienne interaction. The funeral will be next chapter, and then Jon and Dany’s conversation. After that, Gendry’s conversation with Jon, and then Jaime’s admission.
> 
> There will be a few more chapters after that to wrap things up, but I’ll have it finished before episode 4.


	21. Jon

Jon walked through the halls, heading towards the now clear courtyard. It had been almost a full day and night since the battle, giving everyone a chance to rest. Or most people, he though wryly to himself, remembering how he had found Arya and Gendry. It still made him uncomfortable, but what Sansa had said was true. Gendry was a good man. 

Smirking to himself, Jon remembered the look of shook on her face when he had let slip that Arya had killed the Night King. Sansa, Tormund, and Sandor has shared matching looks of awe. Ser Brienne had looked surprised, but less confused than the others. Jon believed that the knight was pleased to know that death itself had been stopped by his wild little sister. 

Sansa had immediately begun talking of having a feast in her honor, so that everyone could know who they were indebted too. Jon had quickly stepped in. He had a suspicion that Arya would detest being hailed as a hero and being the center of attention, even if no one deserved it more.

Reluctantly, Sansa had agreed. She had still organized a feast, but they decided to let Arya choose if she wanted to tell the world. He had requested the four of them to please keep the news to themselves. 

After speaking to Arya later, he was glad that he had. She had looked horrified at the prospect of people knowing and begged him not to spread the news beyond their immediate friends and family. Jon had agreed, but he had known there would be questions about who killed the Night King. He had asked Arya what they should tell people.

She had been quiet for a minute, but had then said to tell people it was Theon. Jon had agreed. The man had been brave and defended Bran when he needed it most. He deserved a place in the hearts of the Northerners. 

He was pulled out of his memories by movement to his left. Looking over his shoulder, Jon saw Dany approaching. She was wearing a blue and silver gown and had her hair braiding into a crown around her head. She looked beautiful.

They walked together into the courtyard. Looking East, Jon could see the first light of dawn streaking the sky. The funeral was to be held as the sun rose, to remember those who had given their lives to sting about the dawn.

Side by side, Jon and Daenerys walked out of the front gate to where a massive pile of wood had been constructed. Atop the wood lay the bodies of the dead, both their own dead and the bodies raised by the Night King. Originally only those who had not been raised were to be given a funereal. However Jon had reasoned that the dead men had once been alive as well, and had fought the Night King. And so the funeral was for everyone.

The survivors of the battle were standing in a circle around the pire. A torch was brought to Daenerys and she stepped forward.   
“The battle we fought was long and hard. Today we honor those who fell to the Night King, both in this battle and in all the ones before. Young and old, they tried to stop the dead and payed with their lives. May they live on forever in the stars and in or hearts.” 

Stepping forward, she held the torch to the fire. The wood caught alight quickly, and she stepped back and handed the torch to Jon. Walking forward, he remembered the lives of the people on the pire. His eyes found Theon, Edd, and little Lyanna. He felt tears forming in his eyes. People said that the little bear was so very like Lyanna Stark. His mother. It still didn’t feel real. Tears blurred his vision as he lifted the torch to the fire. The wood flared up, and he handed the torch to the next person. Looking at Dany, he saw his own sadness reflected in her eyes.

The torch was passed from hand to hand, making its way around the circle. As the last person lit the wood, the sun peaked over the horizon and shone its light over the pire. They stood together in silence, remembering all those who had fallen. The flames danced high above their heads, reaching up to the sky.

As the fire burned low. Jon stepped forward. He looked around the circle, recognizing sadness in the faces staring back at him. “We’ve been forced to say goodbye to many people the we love, and we will remember them for years to come. But today, let us celebrate life. The Night King is gone!”

A spontaneous cheer erupted from around the pire as Jon and Dany turned and lead the way back into Winterfell and into the great hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A feast from Dany’s POV next chapter, and a discussion between her and Jon.


	22. Daenerys

Daenerys swallowed back the lump in her throat. It had been difficult to say goodbye to Jorah. She hoped that he was at peace, wherever he was now. She knew that he had loved her, and even though she had never loved him she had trusted him. 

Daenerys looked at Jon. As she had said to Sansa before the battle, she truly loved him. The knowledge that he was Targaryen had shocked her, but she didn’t love him less for it. How could she?

The doors to the great hall were opened in front of them and they walked forward, followed by a massive group of survivors. Food was placed on the tables and musicians took up instruments. Dany shook off her thoughts. Today was a day to celebrate. 

The mood was jovial as everyone from lords to peasants talked and ate enthusiastically. The feast was massive. After all, winter was over. There was no more need to ration supplies. She and Jon were seated at the high table along with Tyrion, the Starks, and several others. Dany was thoroughly enjoying herself, but she noticed that Jon was being quiet.   
“What’s wrong?” She asked him softly. His eyes lifted from his plate and met hers.   
“Nothing,” he replied. “I’m just thinking again of my mother.” 

Daenerys nodded sympathetically. She wasn’t happy with the news either, but she knew it must be much worse for Jon. To learn that his entire life had been a lie. He life hadn’t been easy, but at least she had known who she was.  
“Do you intend to take the throne?” She asked. Jon looked at her in confusion. “It’s yours by rights,” she elaborated.  
“I’ve never wanted to be a king, Dany. And I don’t want it now. You’ll be a much better ruler than I could be.”  
Daenerys stared at him. “You’re abdicating the throne?”  
He chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

Dany looked down at her plate as Jon turned to speak to Arya. She weighed the options, thinking carefully. And then she abruptly made a decision. 

She rose to her feet and the hall gradually went quiet as people turned to her. Jon looked up at her expectantly, if a little confused. She smiled at him softly and then turned to the rest of the hall.

Raising her voice so that it carried across the room, Daenerys spoke. “Yesterday, we accomplished something that appeared to be impossible. We fought against great odds, and we won. We have won the Great War. But there is one more monster yet to come, and she sits on the iron throne in King’s Landing.” Dany saw the faces of the people turn hard at the mention of Cersei. She continued. “Once we have rested, I will march my forces down to her city and topple her from power. But I will not rule over the Seven Kingdoms.”

Faces turned confused, none more than Jon’s beside her. Looking around, she spoke. “Instead, I will rule the Six. When I take the throne, I intend to grant the North independence. As allies, the North and the South will usher a new age of peace of and prosperity in Westeros. And I can think of no man better able to rule the North than Jon Snow.”

As she finished talking, Daenerys was greeted with stunned silence. And then, one person clapped, and then another and another until the entire hall was filled with the cheers of celebration. Dany sat back in her chair and looked to Jon. He met her eye, looking as though he hadn’t completely processed what she had said. “I trust that together we will leave leave this country better than we found it, your Grace,” she said, smiling at the title.

Jon looked as if he was about to respond, but turned back to the rest of the room as a chant started up. Swelling until it filled the hall to the rafters, the Northerners acclaimed Jon once again as their King.  
“The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!”

Looking to her left, Daenerys saw Sansa smiling broadly. Their eyes met and they shared a smile as Dany spoke over the roar of the crowd. “You were right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gather that a bunch of people were unhappy with Arya giving credit to Theon. I wasn’t sure what to do with that as I knew that Arya would never want to be in the center of attention, but they would have to have an answer to say when people asked who killed the Night King. I thought about going back to change it, but it would mess up so much other stuff. I’ll complete this story the way I saw it happening. 
> 
> Also: prepare for an absolute load of chapters tomorrow because I’m determined to finish this before episode 4.


	23. Gendry

Gendry sat at the feast, smiling as the hall shook with the cry  
“The King in the North!”  
Looking toward Jon, Gendry saw his face portraying shock. He had obviously not known any more than anyone else what the Queen intended to say. Looking around the high table, Gendry locked eyes with Arya and she glared at him jokingly. 

Before the feast, she had tried very hard to convince Gendry to sit with her at the table. Gendry has refused, saying that it wasn’t right for him to sit so high above his station. What he left unsaid was that he was a little nervous of sitting so close to Jon. They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since Jon had walked in on him and Arya. While Gendry knew he couldn’t hope to keep it that way, he was trying to live as long as possible.

The cheers died down and people turned their attention back to their neighbors. Gendry spoke with the other smiths who had survived, joking together, all relieved that they had survived the Long Night. 

They were interrupted as someone cleared their throat. Looking up, Gendry saw Arya our her plate down and sit across from him at one of the low tables. “What are you doing?” He hissed.  
“Joining you,” she said as if it was obvious. Gendry looked around the hall. Luckily, only a few people other than the smiths around them had noticed. 

Looking to the high table, Gendry saw Sansa and Daenerys smiling at what Arya had done. But then his eyes found Jon. The new King in the North looked menacing, and Gendry felt actual fear as he saw Jon starting to get up. Thankfully for him, Daenerys saw too and put a hand on his wrist, distracting him as she said something. 

Looking at Arya, it was clear that she had noticed as well. She raised an eyebrow at him and turned back to her food.

 

Gendry walked out of the hall. It was a little after midday and the feast was dying down. Arya had already left, and he and the other smiths were going to go have a drink in the forge and recount the battle. They drank and spoke of the battle, the wights, and those they had lost. 

Eventually it went quiet, but that was quickly broken as a smith looked at Gendry. “So,” he started. “The Lady Stark?” Hearing this, the other smiths turned toward him, all interested to see what he had to say. Luckily, Gendry was saved from answering as a messenger arrived. Or not so luckily, he though as the man spoke.   
“King Jon wants to speak to you.”

 

Gendry felt an impending sense of doom as he followed the messenger. It appeared that his day of reckoning had come. Because one thing he was sure of was that he wouldn’t agree to leave Arya alone. Even if that meant his death, and he was nervous it might, he wouldn’t let Jon scare him away from the woman he loved. 

The messenger pointed at a door and left him standing outside. Briefly, Gendry wondered if he should just walk the other way. He shook of the thought and raised his fist. He hesitated again before knocking twice before he could argue himself out of it. This conversation was going to happen sooner or later. 

“Come in,” he heard from inside the room. Steeling himself, Gendry opened the door and walked into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation will be next chapter, from Jon’s POV. Then Jaime’s admission from his own POV. Then however many chapters I need to wrap this up.


	24. Jon

Jon looked up as Gendry let himself into the room. The smith looked nervous, not that Jon could blame him. He was about to be interrogated by the King in the North about his relation with the King’s sister. He thought he would be scared too. 

Jon gestured to a chair. “Have a seat,” he said. It came out a little more menacing than he meant it to. Both Sansa and Daenerys had cautioned him not to be too hard on the smith. It would appear that they both supported the relationship. 

The silence grew awkward as Jon tried to think of something to say. Eventually he broke the silence. “I’m glad you survived the battle,” he said. Gendry looked at him in surprise, obviously not expecting that to be what he started with.  
“You as well, your Grace.” Jon frowned at the title.   
“Just Jon, please, if you don’t mind.”  
Gendry nodded acknowledged. “I would have died if it hadn’t been for Arya,” the smith said, and Jon nodded.  
“So would I. So would everyone. I hate that she gave credit to Theon. She deserves to be hailed as a hero.”  
Gendry frowned. “But that’s not what she wants. I don’t like it either. It feels like we aren’t acknowledging what she did.” He sighed. “But we have to respect her choice.”

Jon looked at him in interest. Perhaps the smith was even better for Arya than he had thought. He seemed to understand her.  
“I heard that you’ve known Arya for a long time. When did you meet?”  
Gendry’s eyes stared at nothing as he remembered the past.   
“After she escaped King’s Landing. We were in a group of men heading to the wall. Yoren had cut her hair so that she appeared more like a boy. I figured out that she wasn’t.”  
Jon felt a flare of anger and interrupted him. “Oh? And how did you figure that out?”  
Gendry didn’t seem to hear the anger in his voice. “Little things. Her voice was too high, and her face too soft, especially compared to the group we were traveling with.”  
“So what did you do when you realized?”  
“I questioned her on it. She told me who she was. I think she trusted me.”

Jon looked at him. Arya had always been slow to trust. The fact that she had told him who she was did indicate that he was one of the few people she had let into her pack.   
“She probably did,” said Jon.

Gendry continued. “It’s a very long story, but eventually we got separated. I don’t know what happened to her after that, except that she spent some time with the Hound and then left him too. After that, I’m not sure. But she must have gone through a lot to become such a fighter.”

Jon looked at him. “Is she good?”   
Gendry smiled. “She said she matched Brienne of Tarth in a sparring match. I think she’d beat me easily.”  
Jon was stunned. His little sister had matched Ser Brienne? But he was pulled out of his thoughts as Gendry spoke again.  
“I hate that she had to go through what she did. She hasn’t told me about all of it, but she has massive scars along her stomach.”  
Jon looked up sharply, a mixture of concern and anger on his face. Gendry paled slightly, realizing what he had just said. Jon decided to ignore the implications of what the smith had said and focus instead on his concern for Arya.   
“Scars?”

Gendry swallowed and nodded. “She had three big stab wounds in her side,” he said. “I don’t know how she survived them.”   
Jon felt anger bubbling to the surface as he began to realize what his little sister had lived through in their time apart.

Before he could speak, Gendry spoke almost his exact thoughts. “I hate that she had to live through that,” he said quietly. “But she’s cleared almost everyone off of her list.”  
Jon looked at him, confused. “Her list?”  
“She made a list of all the people she was going to kill. She repeated the names every night before she slept. It used to be long,” Gendry sighed. “She told me that the only name left on it was Cersei.”

Jon remembered back to when he had reunited with Arya, how she had told him she had used needle once or twice. “She killed them?” He asked. Gendry nodded.  
“A lot of them, and many more who weren’t on her list. She killed one before I even met her, and then three more while we traveled together, although technically she didn’t actually kill them.”  
Jon was confused, but let Gendry continue.  
“The Hound said she killed at least five more while she was with him. I don’t know how many she killed between leaving him and returning, but she told me she had wiped out the Freys. 

Jon looked away, wanting to hit a wall. His little sister must have gone through so much. He had heard about the massacre at the Twins. He had been happy about it, although no one knew who had been responsible. He supposed that now he knew.

“Thank you for telling me, Gendry. I mostly called you here to tell you that I think as far as men go, you’re one of the best for Arya. I trust you, and so does she. You’re a good man.”

Gendry looked stunned. Obviously he hadn’t expected Jon to accept the relationship. Standing up, Jon let a glare slide onto his face. “With that being said, if you ever hurt her I will kill you myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That was a long one. Only a few more left to write though!


	25. Jaime

Jaime walked into the Godswood, his shoes getting wet from the melting snow. Soon it would be summer again. He wonder if he would live long enough to see it.

As he had thought, Bran was sitting by the Weirwood tree. It seemed to be one of his favorite places. Jaime walked forward , further into the clearing, and Bran turned his head to face him. Once again, Jaime saw the depth in his eyes.   
“I’m going to tell them.” 

Bran stared at him, not speaking, so Jaime spoke again. “It feels wrong to be sheltered under the roof of the Starks without them knowing I’m responsible for your fall.” He sighed and looked down. “It’s the honorable thing to do, if anything I do can be considered honorable anymore.”

Bran finally spoke. “Why are you here?” He asked softly.   
“Because I wanted to make sure you know that I’m not expecting you to defend me. I don’t expect that they’ll let me live.” Jaime met Bran’s eye. “I also wanted to apologize again. I know that you say my actions made you what you are, but that doesn’t make them less despicable. I’m sorry.”  
“I know,” said Bran, and looked back to the tree.

Turning, Jaime walked out of the clearing. As he walked through the Godswood, he knew that his decision was the only right one. He had to tell the Starks. If he didn’t he was no different than he had been when he pushed Bran all those years ago.

As he emerged from the Godswood, Jaime saw Brienne standing in the courtyard. He walked up to her. If this truly was his last day in the world, he wanted to thank her.

Brienne turned at the sound of his steps.  
“I’m going to tell the Starks.”  
Brienne nodded, looking conflicted. “They’re all in Jon’s study, along with the queen and your brother,” she said.  
“I’m probably going to die,” he said softly. “I wanted to thank you first.”  
“Thank me?” Brienne looked puzzled. “For what?”  
“For making me a better man than I could have hoped to become.”

Brienne looked stunned. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Not sure what else to do, Jaime stepped forward and kissed her softly. She was the one who had believed he could change when even he had lost faith.

After a beat, she returned the kiss, her arms wrapping around him as he held her in return. In the quiet of the snowy courtyard, they shared a moment of peace.

When Jaime finally pulled away, he almost decided not to tell the Starks. He didn’t want to die, not when he had Brienne to live for. But he was done living cloaked in lies.  
“Goodbye,” he whispered softly. 

Turning, he walked towards the keep. As he reached the door, however, Brienne’s voice made him turn.  
“Jaime.” He looked over his shoulder. She was still standing in the middle of the courtyard. “You’re and honorable man.”

Feeling his eyes fill with tears, Jaime looked at her. And then, with a surge of determination, he turned and walked into the keep.

 

He stood outside the door to the King’s study. This was right. He knew it. And so he knocked, and walked into the room. Sure enough, the Starks sat together with Daenerys and Tyrion. His brother smiled at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile back. Tyrion frowned in confusion.

“Ser Jaime,” Jon greeted. “What can we do for you?”  
Jaime looked around. “I needed to speak to you. To all of you.”  
Looking puzzled, Jon gestured for him to continue.  
Taking a deep breathe, Jaime spoke. “There’s no easy way to say this. But I can’t bear to live with myself if I don’t tell you. I know that I’ll probably die here, but I’m trying to be a man of honor. And this is what a man of honor would do.”

Jaime saw faces getting more and more confused and rushed on before any of them could question him.  
“Bran’s fall was my fault. He saw me and Cersei together.” His voice broke and got soft as he said the last sentence. “I pushed him out of the window.”

The room was silent. He looked around, watching as the stunned expressions changed to ones of anger. Looking at Tyrion, Jaime saw his brother looking horrified. He wrenched his eyes away, knowing that if he looked at Tyrion too long he may start crying. He didn’t want to cause his brother pain, but this had to be done.

After what felt like an hour of silence, Jon spoke, his voice low and dark.  
“Does Bran know?”  
Jaime nodded and Jon looked surprised.   
“He’s known for a long time, I think. He certainly knew before the battle.”  
“Why didn’t he tell us when you arrived?” Jon asked more to himself than to anyone else.  
“I asked him the same thing. He told me that I wouldn’t be able to help in the battle if he let you kill me. He knows that I’m here now, too. I spoke to him before I came here.”

Looking to his left, Jaime saw Arya pull out her dagger. The boy next to her put a hand over hers, preventing her from killing him yet.

The King looked as if he was trembling in rage. He looked up at Jaime and he saw the depths of fury in Jon’s eyes.   
“And you told us this, knowing that we’d most likely kill you. Why?”  
“Because all my life, my actions have been self interested and dishonorable. Coming North to find you was perhaps one of the first honorable things I’ve done in my miserable life. I didn’t want to live the rest of my days hiding the truth from you. I’d rather die here, an honest man.”

Jaime was surprised to see the light of fury fade from Jon’s eyes. “Leave us, Ser Jaime,” he said stiffly. “We need to discuss this, and speak with Bran.”

Jaime saw Arya grip her blade tighter, looking as if any moment she might snap and drive the knife into his throat. He was surprised to be walking out of the room, although it was no certainty that he would live much longer. 

Nodding his head in deference to the King and Queen, Jamie walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning against the wall.  
“Why are you looking so fucking glum?” Looking to the right, Jaime saw Bronn walking up to him. Sighing, he turned to the other man. “I’m probably going to die soon.”  
“Oh? And why is that?” Bronn obviously thought he was joking.  
“I just told the Starks about how I pushed their brother out of a window.”  
Bronn looked at him, speechless. At any other time Jaime might have rejoiced at getting the sellsword to shut up. 

Eventually Bronn spoke. “Well. Sounds like you could use a drink. Let’s go raid Tyrion’s wines, shall we?”  
Jaime nodded. “If I’m going to die, I suppose getting drunk first is a fine idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this might be the longest chapter yet. Should Jaime die? Haven’t decided yet but he probably won’t.


	26. The End

Jon  
Jon walked toward the Weirwood, his eyes trained on Bran. His little brother didn’t look at him, but Jon believed Bran knew that he was there.  
“How long did you know?”  
Bran turned to look at him. “When I got the sight, it was one of the first things I saw.”  
Jon sighed. “I’ve spoken to the council. You were the one who was the most harmed by this, you should be the one to decide Jaime’s sentence.  
Bran looked at him calmly. There was no trace of anger in his eyes.  
“Had Ser Jaime not pushed me out of that window, none of us would be where we are now. He has changed a great deal since then.” Bran looked at the Weirwood tree. “Let him live.”  
Jon wasn’t surprised by Bran’s decision, and he would honor it, much as he disliked it. He sighed. “If that is what you want, then it will be done.” Jon remembered how Arya had drawn her dagger when they first learned. “We’ll have to convince Arya not to slit his throat at night.”

 

Jaime  
Jaime was in Tyrion’s room with Bronn when his brother walked in. Tyrion looked defeated and Jaime feared that his brother was here to inform him of his death sentence. 

Tyrion looked surprised when he saw them there. “I see you’ve helped yourselves to my wine.”  
Jaime raised his glass. “I didn’t want to die with an empty stomach.”  
Tyrion looked at him. “You might not die.”  
“Oh?” Jaime asked. Tyrion nodded.  
“The council decided that your fate should be left to the decision of Brandon Stark. 

Tyrion opened his mouth to say more, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Come in,” he called, and the door swung open to admit the King. Seeing Jaime, he nodded. “I was told I would find you here. I should inform you, much as I dislike it, that Bran has no wish to see you killed.” 

Jaime saw Tyrion almost sag in relief. However, Jon wasn’t finished. “I will ask that, once we march South, you do not return to Winterfell or the North.

“It’s more than I deserve, your Grace,” said Jaime softly.  
“Yes, well, we agree on that,” said Jon dryly.

 

Tyrion  
Tyrion walked out of his room, leaving Bronn and Jaime to drink. He was relieved that his brother was not to be killed, but he needed time to comprehend the weight of what Jaime had done. He’d pushed a boy out of a window. Even when he was with Cersei, Tyrion had never believed his brother capable of that. 

Walking into the courtyard, he saw Sansa staring at a wall, stone faced. He approached her.  
“I take it you did not approve of your brother’s decision, my Lady.”  
She shook her head, her auburn tresses waving. “I don’t. But for your sake I am happy. And for hers,” Sansa said, softly gesturing to Ser Brienne of Tarth.  
“Yes,” Tyrion responded. “I must say I approve. It’s a much better choice than Cersei.”  
Sansa smiled at him and chuckled, and Tyrion reached up and took her hand.  
“Perhaps some day when Daenerys has taken the Iron Throne, you could come and visit King’s Landing again.”

Tyrion expected her to refuse instantly. Instead, he was surprised when she smiled again. “Perhaps”.

 

Arya  
Arya lay in bed with Gendry, stroking his hair as he slept. She hadn’t been happy to hear Bran’s decision on Jaime, and she was still partly considering murdering him before he could leave Winterfell. She sighed. Gendry had talked her out of it, and truthfully she knew he was right. Everyone changed, it wasn’t impossible to believe that the Kingslayer could change too. Even so, Arya thought, she would be glad to see the back of him. 

Distracted by her thoughts, Arya forgot to look at her hand and accidentally poked Gendry in the eye.  
“Ow” he muttered, waking up.  
Arya chuckled. “Sorry,” She said.  
“No you’re not,” came the muffled reply. Gendry had told her about his conversation with Jon. She had been glad to learn that her brother approved of the relationship. Not that it would have kept her away from Gendry if Jon hadn’t approved, but it still made her happy.

She looked down at Gendry. “You’re right. I’m not sorry. Because now you’re awake, which means you can kiss me.”

Gendry rolled over on top of her and his mouth found hers, kissing her softly. “As m’lady commands,” he said. Arya smiled.  
“I love you,” she said, before pulling him down to kiss her again.

There were challenges yet to come, Arya knew, but she felt an enormous sense of relief to know that the dead were gone. Her pack was safe. 

Valar Morghulis, Arya thought.  
But not today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s done! This has been a crazy week. I’ve spent more time writing than doing homework and studying combined. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for he incredible amount of love this story has received. It’s far beyond what I had ever expected. Let’s all join hands and hope for our favorite ships to survive the last war!

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time ever writing a fanfic, so I hope you enjoyed it! The most recent episode of Game of Thrones inspired me to write this. Also just Gendrya.


End file.
